FuruMiyu drabbles
by FlarkThis
Summary: Just a bunch of FuruMiyu stuff I've been writing lately. Mostly fluff.
1. Bilingual

FuruMiyu is super cute idk man. Please ignore my weird, Furuya POV writing style. It's not my fault. Hope you like it. :)

* * *

Miyuki is leaning too close to him again, smirk stretched across his lips and eyes crinkled at the corners.

It makes his heart beat a little too fast, makes his breath come short. It makes his skin too hot, sweat down his spine too cool. It makes him want to reach out and grab at Miyuki's strong arms, pull him closer and closer still.

It makes him want to run away, push Sawamura aside and beg Chris-senpai to catch for him instead.

None of it shows on his face, he knows. He almost wishes it would, but how can a face say "yes I want this" and "yes come closer" and "please just kiss me already" without words? He's never been able to figure it out, how the curve of his lips or the angle of his brows can mean anything to anyone.

Miyuki is trying. Can translate the tension in his jaw and the fire in his eyes. Knows when the exhaustion has dragged him to his knees, when the cajoling of his teammates has inspired him to new heights.

But there's still subtle things Miyuki can't understand.

The way fire licks at his veins when Miyuki smiles just so, or the way his stomach flips when Miyuki stands in the batter's box, bases loaded, all steely focus and flippant smiles. That his knees go weak when Miyuki compliments a pitch or that his insides feel fluttery when Miyuki takes special note of him.

He's thought about it, staring unseeingly at textbooks in class or trotting aimlessly behind Sawamura during practice. About Miyuki, finally catching the meaning of a long look and edge of a smile. About Miyuki agreeing, _yes me too_, and leaning closer, closer. It's a silly daydream about a silly crush, he knows.

Miyuki can't, shouldn't have to, figure out every nuance of his expression. It'd take too long, too many days of thinking "please touch me" and "please want me" and getting nothing for it. He'll have to do it himself, work up the words that he can't display across his features. Lean too close to Miyuki, closer, closer, until their lips brush together and Miyuki can't misunderstand, mistranslate.

He'll do it, he'll do it. When things aren't all stamina, stamina, _stamina_, and control, control, _control_. Learn this pitch, practice this maneuver, swing this bat. When there's a quiet moment to breathe and neither of them are busy with new signs and new opponents and the next batter up. He'll pull Miyuki aside, pull him too close, force the words from his reluctant throat, give Miyuki the translation in a kiss, _god yes __**finally**__. _

He can do it. He can teach Miyuki to understand the fire in his veins, the flip in his stomach, the weakness in his knees, the flutter in his chest. Miyuki can learn to understand his expressions for the both of them, the definition of pursed lips or tense brows. He can –

"Oi, Furuya, are you even paying attention?"

Miyuki is leaning too close to him again, lips turned down at the corner and skin taught around his eyes.


	2. 50 Sentences

I need all the practice I can get, so I did a 50 sentences challenge and this is the result. They're mostly safe, but there is one or two nsfw and one of them uses a derogatory term.

* * *

Blame – Kawakami did well keeping the other team at two runs, but when the third out of the ninth inning is called, 2-1 on the scoreboard, Furuya can't help but blame himself for failing his team.

Proof – The entire team has been hiding knowing smiles from him all day (except Sawamura, who had pointed and started screaming about secret girlfriends), but aside from the mild embarrassment, it's not so bad to have physical evidence of just how much Miyuki likes him sucked into the skin of neck.

Assistance – His joints crack so loudly when he stands up straight that it silences the entire dugout, but he doesn't mind so much when Furuya bends to help buckle his leg guards.

Going – They'd ignored it, swept it under the rug and forgot about it, but now that the day is here, Furuya wishes he was graduating too.

Birthday – It wasn't a grand gesture (which was all well and good, since he would prefer no one know), but he still thought it was awfully nice of Miyuki to treat him to his favorite snack after practice today.

Scientist – "Damn, Miyuki," Kuramochi whines, "why don't you just stick him under a microscope if you're gonna study him so much!"

Silent – They've mastered silent communication, practice it over the 60 ft from mound to home every game, and that suits Furuya just fine.

Behalf – "Well, I was supposed to be inviting you out on behalf of the team, but this works too," Miyuki laughs, flustered for once in his life, and leans into Furuya's arms.

Rumor(ed) – The first string is teasing Furuya about his rumored girlfriend, but when Eijun sucks in a breath to yell a challenge at his rival, Chris-senpai clamps a hand over his mouth with a little smile and a murmured, "leave it for now."

Tip – "The only tip I can give you," Tetsu-san says quietly, one arm over his shoulders to pull him out of earshot of everyone else, "is that Miyuki won't do anything until you give up being subtle and just kiss him."

Idle – He doesn't mind, exactly, when Furuya falls asleep on his shoulder during the bus ride home, but idle hands are the devil's playthings and maybe that's why he can't stop his fingers from sliding through the pitcher's hair.

neglect – "We can't neglect your hands," Miyuki says slyly, before closing his lips around a finger and sucking lewdly.

sway(ing) – It's not the first time Miyuki has seen Furuya's body give in and start to sway, but it's the first time the cause is music and not the weather.

Redecorate – "I'm gonna redecorate your face, you little fag," he snarls, and Furuya wonders distantly if all the upperclassmen outside of the first string feel this way about him.

Gravitation – Gravitational force is the phenomenon by which all physical bodies attract each other, and Furuya really hopes Miyuki is feeling it as strongly as he is.

incredible – Their team is incredible and Furuya throws as many times as Miyuki tells him to, because he refuses to be the weak link.

afterthought – They've already made their plans when they remember he's there, and Miyuki extends a sheepish invitation, but Furuya would rather be alone than an afterthought.

Guide – Miyuki thinks there are better things to do with a blindfold, but since all three of the first years are here to guide him to his "surprise" birthday party, those better things will just have to wait.

Story – When Miyuki finally gets the whole story about Furuya's junior high baseball experience, he finds it's easier to understand why the pitcher is the way he is.

talent – They discover that they're both lacking in talent after their first kiss, but practice makes perfect and Miyuki has never shirked when it comes to practice.

Hip – Miyuki doesn't usually catch for both games of a double header and his hips won't let him forget it, but the way Furuya touches his elbow and murmurs quietly to him is worth any pain.

Mad – Their first fight is huge and dramatic and really troubling to the rest of the team, because their best battery is suddenly out of commission.

Boil – Forgoing sunscreen was a really stupid idea, Miyuki thinks, as Furuya carefully spreads aloe over blistered skin.

Friend – Sawamura is his friend (though he's loathe to admit it) but that doesn't mean Furuya has any intention of telling him who his "mystery girlfriend" really is.

Still – There's a stillness about Furuya that interests Miyuki at first, but then he realizes that Furuya is just too lazy to so much as fidget.

Exhausted – They were supposed to be doing homework, sprawled on their bellies on Miyuki's floor, but Furuya had passed out after only a few minutes and Miyuki just didn't have the heart to wake him back up.

Bold – Miyuki had always thought the kid had gall, but it's not until he's pressed against the wall getting kissed breathless that he wants to commend him for his guts.

Diffuse – Furuya had never been one for words, but he wasn't that difficult to read if you just paid him enough attention.

Blanket – Miyuki's really not that surprised when he finds out Furuya is a blanket hog.

Ghost – Kuramochi tells ghost stories on the first night of training camp (the only night of the camp they'll have enough energy to hang out on), so Furuya can use the excuse of being scared when he leans into Miyuki's and stays there.

Bed – They both preferred the top bunk, which made things pretty interesting when they actually managed to find time alone.

Eye – The eyes are the mirror to the soul, but Furuya can't tell what Miyuki is feeling by looking him in the eye, so he's probably just soulless.

Never – "Look now because this is never happening again," Miyuki snaps, yanking the front of the French maid costume down.

Sing – It takes every single one of Miyuki's considerable tricks to convince Furuya to sing for him.

Note – Miyuki finds the note tucked in one of his text books when he flips it open in class, choking back an affectionate sigh for his adorable little pitcher.

Stop – Furuya is drenched, breathing hard and trembling but he refuses to stop so Miyuki does the only thing he can and readies his mitt.

Dull – Miyuki knows something is wrong when the pitch hits his mitt with a dull thud instead of a sharp crack.

Frozen – Furuya has a secret love affair with frozen yogurt, much to Miyuki's barely hidden disgust.

Quicken – Whenever Miyuki directs that sly look his way, Furuya feels his pulse quicken.

Absence – Sawamura knew what it was to not have the other half of a battery, but it's a feeling Furuya doesn't experience until his third year at Seidou.

Power – Furuya looks even scrawnier without his clothes on and it's almost impossible to believe he has enough power to throw that fastball.

Close – They're so close, Furuya has gone cross eyed, but neither of them are willing to give in just yet so the Pocky stick caught in both their mouths remains unbroken.

Weak(ness) – When Miyuki brushes his lips along Furuya's neck _just so_, Furuya makes this breathy little shuddering noise that hits Miyuki so hard he goes weak kneed with desire.

Crush – It all started with that first pitch, Miyuki all sharp smiles and cocky confidence, and Furuya, snuggled on the couch with the boy he's loved since he was a teenager, is glad he hadn't brushed it off as just a crush.

Alcohol – When he's drunk, the sharp edges of Miyuki's personality are blunted, leaving him sweet and affectionate, so Furuya keeps quiet about his dislike for alcohol.

Art – Miyuki's supposed to draw a portrait for his art class, but he can't figure out whom to draw until he's presented with a sleepy Furuya (who proves to be an excellent model).

Temptation – Furuya had a tendency to suck on Pocky sticks, rather than just eat them, and the desire to lean over and take a bite off the end was always so tempting.

Eighteen – He's only eighteen, but he thinks maybe he could spend the rest of his life trying to put that little smile on Furuya's face.

Hunger – Sometimes Furuya likes to tease, pushing Miyuki until he's so desperate, starving for it, needing touches and kisses and skin to satisfy his hunger.

Rhythm – Miyuki's been too old for lullabies for a long time now, but he finds the particular rhythm of Furuya's breathing, slow and steady, serves to lull him to sleep just as well.


	3. Just Kiss Already pt 1

So this is a 5 part fairly short story I just finished writing. The next four chapters will be the rest of this. There's a bit of ~swearing~ but otherwise it's pretty tame.

* * *

He's pretty sure Furuya has been staring at him since he walked in the room, and while it's not strange for Furuya to stare, he usually does so blankly. This actually staring at a person and like, following them around with his eyes? This is a new thing. As far as Miyuki knows, anyway. It's not like he can ask anyone. _Hey man, do you ever notice Furuya staring at people? _ Yeah, right. The team may have accepted Furuya as their temporary ace, but Miyuki is still the leading expert in understanding him.

He hunches over his rice, making all the appropriate "yes of course I'm listening" noises during the pauses in Kuramochi's story. He's not, of course. All of his attention is on the table off to his right, where the freshmen trio is sitting; Sawamura and Haruichi back to with Furuya across from them. Even though he's not looking, Miyuki can just _feel_ Furuya's eyes on him and yeah, no please stop. His shoulders are starting to tense up and if Furuya is the reason his arm is stiff at practice this afternoon, he's gonna make him pitch into the net, damn it. (Well, Furuya is almost always the reason his arm is a little stiff after catching, but that's neither here nor there). He rolls his shoulders a couple times, nodding along with whatever Kuramochi is saying, but seriously Furuya needs to find a new hobby because this is just beyond weird.

Kuramochi slaps the table suddenly, drawing attention from all their neighbors and, more importantly, making Miyuki jump. His attention snaps around to the short stop, meeting a suspicious glare.

"What the hell is your problem?"

Kuramochi is staring at him expectantly, lips pursed peevishly. Miyuki drags a smile across his face, laughing weakly.

"Ah," he whines, carefully careless, "don't yell at me, Kuramochi."

Kuramochi knows Miyuki better than that though, unfortunately, and suddenly he's leaning across the table, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing Miyuki's expression. Miyuki laughs again, an honest sound this time, and grins at his fellow second year. Really though, now he's getting stared at from two separate directions and Kuramochi is not enough of a distraction to divert his attention from Furuya's friggin' gaze. His grin turns into more of a clenched-jaw grimace.

"Nah, there's definitely something bothering you," Kuramochi says (like it's some big revelation when Miyuki is literally grinding his teeth), sitting back smugly. Miyuki smoothes out his smile, fixing it securely to his face. He reaches up, catching the bill of his hat between his thumb and index finger, scratching his scalp with the other three fingers. His eyes cut to the right as he replaces his hat and yep, Furuya is still there and still staring. Great. He leans forward, gesturing for Kuramochi to do the same.

"Furuya has a crush on you," he whispers seriously, pointing surreptitiously toward the freshmen. Kuramochi's hands smack into the table as he lurches to his feet, head swinging to the left so fast _Miyuki's_ neck hurts. The ruckus draws attention from around the room. Sawamura and Haruichi have both turned toward them, trying to find out who could possibly make a bigger idiot of himself in front of the team than Sawamura usually does, and everyone in the room is generally blinking at the commotion in confusion. Miyuki mentally pats himself on the back, pleased with some low level mischief, while he devotes these few moments of peace to his lunch.

Except… even with Kuramochi and Sawamura squabbling loudly (and Sawamura probably getting his ass kicked, Miyuki's not paying that much attention thanks), he can still feel Furuya's eyes on him. He sets his chopsticks down and turns so he can face the rookie pitcher head on. _What the hell do you __**want**__? _He meets Furuya's stare, eyes narrowing, face a perfect picture of exasperated expectation. But Furuya just nods, a tiny little lift of the chin, and keeps picking at his rice impassively. Miyuki takes a deep breath – _don't kill the rookie, Kazuya, you're better than that_ – and resolutely turns back to his lunch.

He applies himself to his food, stubbornly refusing to look to his right, not even to check on Kuramochi and Sawamura, who have not returned to their lunches and aren't screaming anymore. (If they've killed each other, it's really Tetsu-san's problem, not his). If Furuya insists on keeping this up, Miyuki will have to pull him aside and inform him that staring is generally really frowned upon and even _he_should have figured that out by now, no matter how much of a space cadet he is.

When the time comes, Miyuki finds himself more grateful for the end of lunch than he ever thought he could be. He sends one quick glance toward the freshman on his way out, reconfirming that Furuya is indeed still being an impolite creep, and shakes his head. _Why are pitchers all so damn weird? _


	4. Just Kiss Already pt 2

Here we go with part 2

* * *

Miyuki is settled near the window, ignoring the general hum of anxiety and excitement from his boarding teammates because it's ass o'clock in the morning and even he can't be charming and witty all the time. Usually on these early morning bus rides, everyone just sits wherever without talking (largely because everyone is still mostly asleep), but today is different. There's a sort of persistent shuffling noise in the aisle, so he cracks an eye open to stare blearily at his visitor.

Now, normally, Miyuki would never describe Furuya as the liveliest person on the team, but after a cursory glance around the interior of the bus, he's going to have to admit that the pitcher seems to be the most wakeful person present. Miyuki isn't really cognizant enough to deal with anything offbeat, so he makes a sort of sleepy "buh" sound and gestures for Furuya to do whatever it is he wants to do.

"Can I sit with you, Miyuki-senpai?"

"Uuh," Miyuki starts drowsily, "sure. If you want."

He keeps an eye on the pitcher as he settles into the seat, but there doesn't seem to be anything amiss here. It's not totally unusual for Furuya to seek him out, although his reasons why are usually lost on Miyuki. He's not sure if it's a 'pitcher looking for some pre-game support' thing or a 'Furuya trying to get under Sawamura's skin' thing. Either is perfectly possible and neither option really bothers Miyuki that much, so he hasn't found the motivation to look into it. If Furuya really wanted something, he'd make sure Miyuki knew about it.

When the bus finally shudders into motion, Miyuki goes back to dozing, the side of his forehead against the window. Furuya is quiet and unobtrusive in the aisle seat, so Miyuki generally ignores his presence. It's been maybe ten minutes when Miyuki is startled out of his light sleep by weight hitting his shoulder. It's not the first time someone has fallen asleep on him during an early morning bus ride and Furuya is a tooth pick who weighs next to nothing, so he just smirks a little and peeks at the pitcher out of the corner of his eye.

He blinks, uncertainly, and turns a little to actually look at the pitcher. Closer inspection reveals that Furuya appears to be very much awake. Which sort of implies that Furuya consciously decided to lean on him and he's just not really sure what to make of that. It's sort of a little more intimate than their relationship calls for, at least coming from Furuya, who so seldom reaches out to anyone. A part of him wants to call the pitcher out, because seriously _what the hell is this_, but another part of him thinks it's better to keep quiet. The first year has some pretty evident trust issues and if he's willfully trying to connect with _anyone_, who is he to stop that? Plus, this can always be written off as a sleep addled mistake.

With that in mind, Miyuki lets his forehead fall back against the window. There's plenty of bus ride left and he's all for getting as much extra sleep as possible.


	5. Just Kiss Already pt 3

Here's part 3. This was probably the most fun for me to write.

* * *

He's pondering the vending machine, arms folded to help ward off the night's chill. He could just punch in the appropriate number and return to his room with Tetsu-san's drink, but he's kind of enjoying the quiet. Not that he doesn't like having his teammates visit, but sometimes it's nice to have a little peace. It's not like Jun-san and Tetsu-san will miss him if he's gone for a few extra minutes, either.

He's contemplating life's mysteries (or when he's going to do the homework he still hasn't done yet because he'd opted to do some extra batting practice instead and then his room had been invaded by his teammates and his time had been appropriated for Shougi), when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. It's just a dark silhouette against a dark background, but Miyuki turns toward him (whoever he may be), leaning one hip against the vending machine casually.

Just his luck, it's Furuya, shadows clinging to him like he belongs with them. Miyuki drops about three quarters of his cool guy act, because, _what the hell, it's just Furuya_.

"Ah, it's my favorite pitcher," Miyuki croons. The corners of Furuya's mouth pull down but he steps forward, more into the light. Furuya's eyes flick between Miyuki and the vending machine a couple times.

"Are you buying a drink, Miyuki-senpai?"

"Ah," Miyuki grins, "Tetsu-san keeps losing at Shougi so I'm making it up to him."

Furuya makes a noncommittal noise, but there's a pinched quality to his expression that suggests he wants to say something else. Miyuki waits, enjoying Furuya's mild distress, a teasing grin growing across his face. The first year shifts slightly, expression growing tighter. Miyuki doesn't want their rookie to combust, so he decides to throw him a bone.

"Did you need something?" he asks, putting on his most polite, helpful senpai voice. Furuya's eyes snap to the vending machine and his expression very clearly says "well, duh," but he makes this incredibly uncertain hand gesture and sucks in a breath.

"Can you help me with something, senpai?"

Miyuki pushes himself off the vending machine, standing up straight and throwing his arms out to the sides.

"I'm all yours," he says cheerfully. And then, to halt the inevitable, "Unless you want me to do some extra catching for you."

Furuya shakes his head slightly, expression strained. Miyuki knows the pitcher isn't great with words, so he does his best to look supportive, aka completely not like himself. _Channel Chris-senpai._Except Chris-senpai probably wouldn't be much help unless Furuya was Sawamura, which is something Miyuki doesn't actually want to think too hard about, thanks very much.

"I… need help with…" Furuya starts haltingly. He's hedging, but Miyuki isn't sure if it's 'I don't know how to say this' or 'I don't actually know what I'm about to say' hedging, so he just lets it go. He makes an encouraging sound, watching Furuya carefully.

The silence continues, something that might be panic crawling its way across Furuya's features. Miyuki kind of feels bad, because he's never seen Furuya look distressed like this. Even when a game was going to hell, he tended to keep it together pretty well on the mound. But yeah, that's definitely the beginnings of fear on his face.

"Hey," Miyuki says softly, like one would speak to a frightened animal. "It's okay Furuya. You're talking to a very reliable senpai, you know?"

He tries for light, teasing, in an effort to ease some of the weird tension. Furuya slants this look at him that screams "like hell am I believing that, Senpai" and it makes Miyuki grin. The pitcher looks to be mentally scrambling still, filling time by clearing his throat and making weird motions with his hands. Miyuki shoves his hands into his pockets and leans back into the vending machine, trying to keep an indulgent smile off his face.

He's not sure how long it takes (he's beginning to wonder just how long he can stay away before Tetsu-san and Jun-san send out a rescue squad for him), but suddenly the light goes on above Furuya's head._Ah, here we go. _The pitcher turns toward him.

"Are you good at history, Senpai?" casual as you please. Miyuki bites his tongue to keep from laughing. _That is __**so**__ not what you wanted to say. _But Furuya's wearing a pretty serious face (or more serious than usual), so he takes a second to think this through. Yeah, he does well at school, because he pays attention in class and puts the time into studying, unlike some people _cough Furuya cough_,but he's not sure he actually wants to admit that to someone who's probably going to ask him for homework help. Then again, the first year has been very entertaining tonight so it might be nice to pay him back. (Plus there's the fact that Furuya will probably never ask anyone for anything ever again if Miyuki goes back on the whole 'good senpai' thing now so…). He shrugs casually.

"Yeah, I'm all right at history," he says easily. Furuya releases a sigh, tension visibly oozing out of his shoulders.

"Miyuki-senpai, could you help me with my history homework please?"

Miyuki smiles. _And there's the super polite kouhai voice_. He steps over to Furuya's side, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Since you ask so nicely," Miyuki hums. Furuya just looks at him, blank faced. Miyuki snorts a little, bemused. "Ah, not tonight, though. I need to get back. Tetsu-san must be wondering where his tea is."

Miyuki gives Furuya a fond pat on the shoulder, before stepping away to commune with the vending machine. He collects his prize and turns to stroll back to his room. He gives Furuya a wink and a smile on his way by, laughing at the puzzled look he gets in return. He smiles to himself all the way back to his room, feeling light and bubbly. He catches himself when he's standing just outside his room, honestly surprised by this general sense of euphoria. He wipes the grin off his face, as a touch of worry roils through his stomach.

_Well shit. _


	6. Just Kiss Already pt 4

Part 4: the vaguely angsty part. There's a little stronger language in this part.

* * *

He can't stop thinking about the night at the vending machine. Not because it was anything particularly special, but because of how happy he'd felt as he'd walked away and the smile he hadn't been able to wipe off his face for the rest of the night and the way his stomach had flipped when he'd seen Furuya at breakfast the next morning.

_It's a fucking crush shit fuck_.

So yeah, okay, maybe he's been trying to avoid Furuya lately. It's impossible to completely dodge the first year, since they're kind of an important duo to the team, but that hasn't stopped him from making an attempt. It's an easy feat during the day, and it's not that hard at meal times, since he can just stick to Kuramochi (the short stop is totally onto him), but he's _expected _to work with Furuya at practice. He can't even switch pitchers, since no one else will catch those nasty fast balls.

But he's not even catching today. Furuya is supposed to be taking it easy because he'd pitched so hard yesterday, which should mean that Miyuki is in the clear. Except Furuya had made a mild complaint about his shoulders being stiff and Kataoka had given Miyuki one of those looks that clearly said he expected things to be taken care of.

Which is how Miyuki finds himself contemplating Furuya's narrow back and long arms. His fragile wrists wrapped in smooth, pale skin. How he smells like such a boy, all sweat and dirt and bite. He's got one forearm across the pitcher's shoulders and the other hand wrapped around a wrist, slowly rotating Furuya's arm to stretch out overused muscles. He's done this plenty of times in the past, for a variety of pitchers, but he's never been quite this aware of the proximity before.

He's annoyed with himself for having a crush on Furuya _of all people damn it_. He's annoyed with how he can't stop being annoyed with himself, how he can't get away from Furuya, how Furuya is so socially inept. He's annoyed that he's aware of these feelings at all and that they're so damn **present **now, like they've been lying in wait to ambush him. He wants to grab the pitcher by the shoulders and shake him until all this starts making sense. Or maybe just grab him by the shoulders and kiss him.

He's so distracted by his thoughts that he puts a little too much torque on the pitcher's arm. Furuya grunts, a gut sound, and Miyuki winces.

"Sorry," he says lowly, patting the first year's shoulder consolingly. He wrenches his focus back to the task at hand, irked by his own lack of attention, racking his brain for something to talk about to keep his mind from returning to its most recent rut. He's sincerely surprised when Furuya beats him to it.

"My glove is broken," he says casually. Miyuki hums, considering.

"How so?"

"One of the seams is broken."

"Ah," Miyuki murmurs, "You can get it fixed pretty easily. Someone probably has an extra you can borrow, in the mean time."

Miyuki has to slip his fingers into Furuya's palm for the next stretch, and all his attention snaps to the feel of the pitcher's strong hand in his. He's aware that Furuya is still talking, but he's not listening closely enough to actually hear the words. Furuya's palm is rough, worn from holding a baseball, and dry. He's trying really hard not to slide his fingers along the contours of the first year's hand when Furuya shifts slightly, catching Miyuki's attention.

"Hmm?" Miyuki tries, hoping Furuya asked something easy so he won't have to admit just how much he wasn't paying attention. He can see the side of Furuya's jaw clench and release a few times before he works up the words again.

"I asked if you'd go out with me."

Miyuki blinks rapidly, staring hard at the back of Furuya's head. He flips through his memories of interacting with Furuya, looking for moments where Furuya might have been flirting with him, but he comes up short. There are possible instances here or there, a too long look or an unnecessary touch, but most of it can be chalked up to Furuya's stilted, awkward manner. Miyuki shakes his head hard, casting around in his mind for what Furuya had been talking about before. _Don't project on him, he didn't mean it like that. _They'd been talking about getting his glove fixed, and Miyuki knows Furuya and Sawamura had gotten lost last time they went out into the city for equipment. Cursing himself for not paying attention, he gives that a try.

"To get your glove fixed?"

He means for it to be a statement, but his voice hitches high on the end, turning it into a question. Furuya is quiet for a moment – _but is it a moment too long or is it just Furuya?_ – before nodding once, firmly.

"Yeah, for my glove," he says.

"Sure," Miyuki replies, injecting as much false cheer into his voice as he can. He feels like they're reaching for each other and completely missing, and he doesn't know Furuya well enough to fix it. He wants to go back to the beginning, redo this entire conversation and actually listen this time. The air around them becomes heavy and uncomfortable, but Miyuki is at a loss for what to do. He directs all his attention to finishing up Furuya's stretches, patting him between the shoulder blades awkwardly when he's done.

"You're all set," he mutters. The pitcher is on his feet in a flash and several steps away when he stops to address him.

"Since I can't pitch today, I'll run laps," Furuya says somberly. Miyuki nods, and watches as the pitcher turns and trots off. He drops his eyes to the ground, rubbing at his temples uncertainly.

"What the fuck just happened?" he whispers to the ground.


	7. Just Kiss Already pt 5

The final part yay /confetti. Someday I'll probably get around to writing an epilogue of sorts to this.

* * *

It's not that he's late, exactly, but he just doesn't have the time for this shit right now. He scrambles around his room, agitated and rushed, trying to put on his shoes and find his hat at the same time. He's buttoning his white uniform shirt and pulling the door shut with a foot when he runs smack into something warm and solid and human and _oh good it's Furuya_.

Furuya, who's been sending him sullen, wounded looks lately. Furuya, who's been distant and cold whenever they have to interact. Furuya, who's totally backing him into the wall _hey whoa wait what. _Miyuki shrinks into himself as much as he can, back pressed to the wall and hands curled in the front of his half buttoned uniform. Taking full advantage of his few extra inches, Furuya leans over him, planting one hand on the wall beside Miyuki's head.

Miyuki laughs nervously, trying to scrape together his usual poise and pointedly looking anywhere but at the boy in front of him. His heart's in his throat and his brain is leaking out his ears because hey, who knew that having Furuya push him up against a wall would be really hot? He swallows hard, about to spit out whatever pathetic excuse he can come up with – _why is this happening, fuck – _when Furuya leans down and smashes their faces together.

Now, Miyuki wouldn't consider himself an expert on the art of kissing, but he's been here enough times to know that Furuya is completely clueless. Like, "no idea what to do with his lips or how angles work or how two noses are supposed to occupy the same space," completely clueless. And really, Miyuki would be a terrible senpai if he didn't guide his kouhai through new experiences, right?

He brings his hands up to cradle Furuya's jaw, coaxing him to angle his head until their mouths slide together just so. Furuya sighs hard through his nose, body sagging forward with the release of tension. The motion brings their chests together and Miyuki can feel the cut of Furuya's ribs, heaving with nerves or emotion or maybe simple lack of breath. Miyuki slips one hand around to the back of Furuya's head, curling his fingers in the short hair at his nape, squeezing soothingly.

Miyuki directs the kiss; shows him when to press together and when to pull back, how to catch a lower lip between his teeth, how to lick at the seam of his lips. Furuya chases after him, making up for inexperience with a shy sort of earnestness. He's so sincere, so eager in his efforts, that it makes something warm and sweet unfurl in Miyuki's chest. He winces internally at the feeling, an expansion of the crush he's been trying so hard to squash.

It's regret, not lungs starving for air, that drives him to pull away. He does so slowly, hands sliding down to knead at the base of Furuya's neck. The first year is staring at him, face flushed charmingly. Miyuki grabs at all the warm, soft feelings fluttering in his chest, twists them around and chokes them off. It's not a problem of liking Furuya, specifically, or even liking another boy. It's a problem of liking someone in general.

"Miyuki-senpai," Furuya whispers, and his voice is high and strained and a little wondering. Alarms are going off in Miyuki's head because no, no, oh no Furuya was not supposed to like him back. He knows himself too well to even fantasize about this ending well. He's too sharp and too casual and he'll eat Furuya alive without meaning to. And even if he was all right with eventually flaying apart the pitcher's emotions, there's the team to think about. One argument and suddenly their battery would be in shambles. Miyuki can't deal with the pressure, the constant stress of not messing up the team's best rookie pitcher.

He's about to open his mouth and say so, let Furuya down as gently as he possibly can, when a loud scream rends the air. He shares a wide eyed look with the other boy, before turning to stare towards the end of the walkway. There's the sound of a door slamming, and feet slapping the ground, and more yelling. _Ah_. Miyuki grabs Furuya's biceps, shoves him back two full steps. Furuya's hair is sticking up and his hat is nowhere to be found and anyone with eyes could see that _something _has happened between them, but if the person about to turn the corner is who he thinks it is, it won't be a problem.

He folds his arms across his chest, slaps a rakish grin on his face, and waits. The thundering footsteps grow closer, and then the lithe form of everyone's favorite southpaw comes clambering around the corner. Miyuki snorts in amusement, watching the other first year spot them and slowly come to a halt. He points at the space between them accusingly.

"What are _you two_ doing?" he shrieks. Furuya looks mildly offended, like Sawamura has implied something abhorrent about him.

"Late again, huh?" Miyuki teases, hoping to distract him from his unanswered question.

"I don't want to hear that from you," Sawamura cries. "You're late again, too!"

Miyuki snickers, mentally scrambling to scrape together an excuse that will appease Sawamura. Except, apparently Furuya is in no mood for this interruption.

"I need to talk to Miyuki-senpai," he says shortly. Sawamura whirls toward him.

"Why? What are you planning?"

Miyuki moves to Sawamura's side before the pitchers can start on each other and throws an arm over his shoulder. He turns him away from Furuya, cupping his hand over his mouth like that will keep the rookie ace out of the loop.

"He's trying to learn how to throw breaking balls, you know? It's pretty embarrassing to talk about, since he has no control," Miyuki stage whispers, hoping Furuya doesn't take his teasing too seriously. Sawamura nods understandingly, though, bringing a hand to his chin.

"Yeah, he does need a lot of help with his control," Sawamura says resolutely. _Talk about the pot calling the kettle black_. A quick glance at Furuya reveals he's probably about to go Super Saiyan on them, so Miyuki does his best to end this quickly.

"Exactly," he says patronizingly, "That's why he came to me." And the pièce de résistance, "Coach'll let us off the hook, since we're talking shop, but you'll be running laps if you don't hurry."

It's a lie. Miyuki knows without having to find a clock that they're in so much hot water, but Sawamura is pretty gullible so it should be enough. The lefty makes a distraught sound, and bolts, yelling a mildly insulting encouragement at Furuya as he goes.

He watches Sawamura scramble down the straightaway and turn the next corner, and then they're alone again. He takes in Furuya's expression, the determination, the passion lighting his eyes. He feels his resolve crack under the force of that look.

"Miyuki-senpai, I–"

"Don't," Miyuki cuts him off. "I'd be the worst boyfriend on the planet."

"But I like you," Furuya mumbles, staring at him. Miyuki heaves a sigh, resigned to how endeared he is to Furuya's complete lack of social grace.

"It wouldn't work out, I promise."

"You don't know that," Furuya replies, petulant. _Damn him and his stubbornness anyway._

"Look, I'm a total asshole and you are not cut out to deal with it."

Furuya snorts inelegantly and turns his head. Miyuki grabs the bill of his hat, pulls it completely sideways from its normal ¾ angle, then back toward the front. A frustrated motion.

"I don't know what you want from me," Miyuki says finally, holding his hands palms up, supplicating. Furuya remains pointedly silent. _Don't ignore me, you brat_. He doesn't know what he can say to get it through Furuya's thick skull. It's just a crush and it'll go away if they ignore it long enough. That's a lot better option than trying and ultimately failing spectacularly.

"Think about the team. If something happens and our battery gets messed up, we'll be letting all of the third years down."

"I won't let it affect my pitching," Furuya grumbles. Miyuki barks a disbelieving laugh.

"Bullshit."

Furuya sets his jaw stubbornly, but his eyes are downcast and there's a bitter twist to his lips. Miyuki's resolve shudders.

"You don't even want to try," the pitcher says, tone dancing between accusing and condescending.

"Furuya…" he sighs, imploringly. Miyuki can feel this conversation slipping through his fingers. It would be so much easier if this was all one sided, but even knowing this is a bad idea, he still wants the same thing Furuya wants. The first year huffs haughtily, and crosses his arms. Except his fingers are curling in the sides of his uniform and _oh no he's hugging himself_. Miyuki's resolve gives one last tremble, before shattering completely. He's probably going to regret this but…

"Fine," he exhales sharply. "I'll take you out on one date –" Furuya's head snaps around, wide eyed "–but that's it. If you can convince me this isn't the worst idea in the world, then I'll… think about it."

Miyuki has never seen Furuya smile, but he's pretty sure that's the thing happening to Furuya's face. It's a pathetic, lopsided excuse for a smile but the brightness in his eyes makes up for it. _I'm doomed, he's so cute_. He puts that sad excuse for a smile down quickly, by hooking a finger in the collar of Furuya's shirt and tiptoeing to brush their lips together briefly. He steps back, heat blooming across his cheeks, and clears his throat.

"We're late, you know."

Furuya nods, expression wide open and a bit shell shocked.

"Heh," Miyuki snickers, "you're gonna be running laps forever to make up for this."

Furuya's face contorts in distaste.

"I wanna pitch," he sighs glumly. Miyuki laughs, shoving everything aside to deal with later, and starts toward the diamond. He claps Furuya on the shoulder as he passes by him.

"C'mon Monster-kun," Miyuki croons, "time to face the music."


	8. 5 and 1

lol 5+1 stories are necessary right? i totally wrote this to cater to my headcanon that miyuki would be totally chill with getting down and dirty but as soon as you wanted to hold his hand or boop his nose or anything cute and ~feely~ like that he'd just be like "omg wtf are you doing" SO YEAH LEAVE ME ALONE WITH MY FEELINGS BYE

—

**1.** Furuya is indecisive. On the one hand, this is their second date and Miyuki had agreed to go without much difficulty. On the other hand, Furuya isn't sure how much of this is Miyuki agreeing simply because it's easier to humor him. See, Furuya would really like to hold Miyuki's hand, but he's worried it'll cross some line he doesn't know about. Most of the time, he feels kind of like he's walking on eggshells around Miyuki. Like sometimes Miyuki gets really desperate, like a cornered animal, when Furuya stands too close or looks too long or sighs just a little too longingly.

As far as dates go, this one is pretty lame. They're just sort of… wandering. Aimlessly. Because Furuya is hopeless with date ideas and Miyuki had found it hilarious to watch him flounder. It's the perfect setup for hand holding, though. Furuya has been sidling ever closer to Miyuki, close enough now that their elbows bump every now and then. Just a little bit closer and their hands will collide. Which is pretty much the point Furuya is caught on. Does he inch that little bit closer and test Miyuki's limits or does he wallow in his indecision?

Miyuki is chattering away, light and easy, all smiles. It's frightening, really, how well Miyuki is holding up this one sided conversation. Furuya would bask in this cheerful, comfortable moment, but he's a little busy tying himself in knots about the whole hand holding thing. It's kind of dark out, and there's not a lot of people around, so if that sort of thing bothers Miyuki there shouldn't be a problem. Of course, if he's bothered by the holding hands in general thing, then it's not going to matter how many people see, will it? There's really only one way to find out.

Furuya takes a deep breath and shifts his weight toward Miyuki. The back of his hand brushes lightly against Miyuki's knuckles, and Furuya holds his breath, looking steadfastly forward. Miyuki's chatter doesn't even hitch, and he doesn't move away from Furuya's crowding. He allows himself to feel a little thrill of triumph, taking Miyuki's lack of response as permission to continue onward. Where Furuya's last action had been very carefully accidental, this movement is decidedly purposeful. He bumps their hands together, extending his fingers and hooking his index finger around Miyuki's. The catcher's voice trails off and Furuya can feel eyes on him, but he stubbornly stares forward. After a quiet moment, Miyuki huffs a little laugh and returns to his conversation. Furuya hums softly, pleased as punch, and catches the rest of Miyuki's fingers in his own.

**2.** They're sitting side by side on the floor, each working on his own thing. Well, they're supposed to be working. Miyuki is bent over his papers, face serious and focused. Furuya's homework is laid out in front of him but he's only poking at it half heartedly at best. Mostly, he's been watching Miyuki and contemplating the catcher's wild hair. For the last few minutes he's been thinking that he'd like to run his fingers through it. He knows for a fact that Miyuki likes having his scalp scratched, but Furuya's not sure if an interruption right now would be welcome.

"Why are you staring at me?" Miyuki asks distractedly, eyes still glued to his work. Furuya could answer with any number of things - _I like you_ or _you're handsome_ or _I can't figure you out but I want to_. All true, but probably not what Miyuki is looking for. Truth be told, Miyuki would probably laugh or brush him off for saying any of those things. Unfortunately, words aren't Furuya's strong point and coming up with anything better is a daunting task.

"Sorry," he mumbles, because it seems like the safest option. Miyuki hums lowly and continues to ignore him. Furuya sighs, actually trying to focus on his homework this time. His attention drifts after only a few minutes and he soon finds himself staring at the catcher again. Furuya bemoans his lack of concentration. If he's not going to be productive, he might as well try pushing his luck. The worst that can happen is Miyuki getting mad and kicking him out of the room. At least then he'd be able to do his homework. Probably.

With a firm nod and a solid grip on his confidence, Furuya leans over and slides his fingers back through Miyuki's hair. Miyuki's head snaps up, eyes wide and obviously startled. Furuya swallows hard, nerves twisting in his stomach. They stare at each other for a stretch of time, neither really sure where to go next. When the silence drags into discomfort, Miyuki clears his throat and turns slowly back to his stack of papers. Furuya bites his lip, but doesn't draw his hand away. Instead, he works his fingers gently, uncertainly through Miyuki's hair, scraping his nails lightly over Miyuki's scalp. Miyuki makes no comment, but after a minute he starts to lean into the attention, and that's more than enough for Furuya.

**3.** He's not sure he's ever been more tired than he is right now. Today has been very long and very hot and very disappointing. There had been baseball, which was always a good thing, except Furuya had pitched like shit. The team had only barely scraped out a win, and no one had felt particularly excited about it. Furuya has spent most of the day moping, stewing in his frustration and dissatisfaction. Most of his teammates had steered clear of him, much to his relief. All he really wanted was time to accept his poor performance. He could be upbeat and motivated later, after he's had time to sulk.

Sawamura, in a rare showing of perceptiveness, had sat shoulder to shoulder with him for a few minutes. Furuya had appreciated his silent support, even if the person he would most like to mope with is Miyuki. Furuya would really like to wrap his arms around the catcher, bury his face in Miyuki's neck, and just breathe. That would probably even be okay, if Miyuki weren't as irritated with their poor showing as he is. Furuya's pretty sure cuddling is not on the menu for Miyuki today. Not that he can avoid Miyuki, since he's already been chastised for not discussing what went wrong with the catcher on one occasion today.

He drags his feet while looking listlessly for Miyuki. As much as he'd like to pour himself into Miyuki's arms, he's aware that his pitching today had been abysmal and he's worried Miyuki won't want to deal with his neediness. Eventually, even his lackluster searching succeeds. He finds Miyuki sitting on the hill overlooking one of the practice fields. He hovers uselessly, knowing he needs to talk to his catcher but worried about interrupting the undeniable moping before him. Miyuki, unsurprisingly, notices him quickly and waves an impatient hand at him.

Furuya moves forward cautiously, settling with his chin on his knees and his arms around his shins. They both remain silent, Miyuki stewing in his discontent and Furuya feeling guilt layering over his own upset. They sit there, miserable and not trying to fix it. Their shared silence is tense and unhappy. Furuya finally throws caution to the wind, because things can't really get any worse than they are. He unfurls, joints cracking as he stretches out, and turns onto his hip toward Miyuki. The catcher gives him a sideways glance, which quickly becomes wide eyed gawking when Furuya wraps his arms around Miyuki's waist. Miyuki lets out a surprised yelp and plants his hands on Furuya's shoulder. He doesn't push Furuya away, though. The pitcher takes this as invitation to press his face into the curve of Miyuki's stomach, sighing heavily with all the pent up emotion of the day. Miyuki sits stiffly, holding his breath. Furuya smoothes one hand across the small of Miyuki's back, until Miyuki sucks in a harsh breath.

"Furuya?" he asks, quiet and small.

"Today sucked," Furuya mumbles, muffled in Miyuki's shirt. There's an expectant pause, and then Miyuki's hand settles in Furuya's hair.

"Yeah, it did," Miyuki agrees.

**4.** Miyuki is in a particularly good mood. Maybe it's an afternoon spent being a stupid teenage boy with Kuramochi or the way his bat had been alive at practice earlier. Whatever the reason, Miyuki is clearly in high spirits. Furuya is swept up in the light, pleasant atmosphere Miyuki's mood is creating, bobbing along behind him like a lovestruck puppy.

Miyuki turns to him, all smiles. It's so sweet and happy and genuine. Furuya is bowled over by a wave of affection. Without thinking, without worrying, Furuya leans in to kiss Miyuki's cheek. Except Miyuki turns his head to keep Furuya in focus as he gets closer, so the kiss lands more on the side of Miyuki's nose. Miyuki leans back, pink dusting his cheeks, but he laughs brightly.

"You missed," he chirps, giving the corner of his lips a cheeky tap.

"I did," Furuya agrees simply, leaning over to give Miyuki a real kiss.

**5.** Furuya is on fire today. His pitches are clean and sharp and Miyuki's grin is fiery and pleased. It's unfortunate, really, that this is only practice. Miyuki draws the line after a handful of pitches, as per usual, but he jokingly shakes out his hand, making his own excuses rather than bringing up the dreaded "s" word. They meet in the middle of the bullpen, Miyuki already settled down to business.

"You should pitch like that more often," he teases lightly. Furuya's insides feel like the fizz on top of soda at the praise. He looks at Miyuki, so pleased with his pitching and Miyuki's happiness that he can barely contain himself. Miyuki chuckles, whacking him on the shoulder with his folded mitt.

"You look good. Just pitch like that in the next game," Miyuki continues, as if he hands out praise all the time. Furuya sucks in a deep breath, savoring the feeling. It's like winning a game, that urge to leap into the air and laugh and scream and cry. He doesn't know what to do, how to squash all the surging joy, how to bleed off his excitement.

Miyuki has already started off toward the rest of the field, so Furuya bounds after him. He catches up quickly, coming up behind Miyuki and slinging his arms around Miyuki's chest. The catcher's gear is bulky and stiff and uncomfortable and totally in the way but Furuya doesn't care. Miyuki squeaks, flustered by the unexpected attention, and swats at Furuya's hip with his glove.

"Get out of here. Go run laps. Your stamina still sucks," Miyuki babbles, the faintest hint of a blush brushing across his face. Furuya laughs, just the tiniest little sound popping off the top of his throat. He gives Miyuki one last squeeze before trotting off to start his run.

**+1.** Furuya is cross legged on the floor, bent over his textbook with a stern frown. He has a test coming up, and as loathe as he is to study, Sawamura has a better grade than him in the class. It's not in his nature to go down without a fight, especially where Sawamura is concerned. Miyuki had promised to help him study, but little things kept distracting him from actually doing anything useful. First he'd felt the need to venture out to the vending machine to get a drink, then he'd picked at his own homework, and then he'd had to talk a gaggle of their teammates out of crashing in his room. Somehow he'd proceeded to curl up on his bed with headphones on and a book in hand. Furuya's pretty sure he's just pretending to read, though. It doesn't take anyone _that_ long to turn a page.

Furuya chews on his lip, screwing up his face at a paragraph he's probably read ten times by now. He should probably flag Miyuki over and ask him to explain, but he's sort of under the impression that Miyuki doesn't actually intend to help him. Although, why Miyuki would proceed to invite him to over only to ignore him is a mystery. Unless the potential for making out later was the siren call Miyuki was answering, in which case Furuya won't complain.

He's starting that same paragraph for the hundredth time, tongue caught between his teeth and pencil prepped and ready for note taking, when a warm weight drapes itself over his back. Arms loop around his waist and a chin settles on his shoulder. Furuya sucks in a breath, freezing in shock.

"M-Miyuki?" Furuya asks, speechless with surprise. The boy in question presses forward, brushing his lips across Furuya's cheek lightly. The pitcher feels his face heating up, unused to such gentle affection from Miyuki.

"You're cute," Miyuki mutters, reluctant, likes it's being dragged out of him. Furuya squeaks, cheeks reaching the boiling point. Miyuki turns his face, hiding against the soft skin of Furuya's neck, just below the cut of his jaw.

"Thanks for being here," Miyuki mumbles, barely audible muffled as it is against Furuya's neck. Furuya gulps.

"I like being with you."

It's barely a whisper, like Miyuki would prefer if Furuya didn't actually hear it at all. Neither of them move. Furuya holds his breath, wondering when this bizarre dream is going to shatter. It's normal for Furuya to lave Miyuki in gentle affections, but the other way around? It's downright ludicrous. The only thing Miyuki has ever started of his own volition was hot and heavy and completely devoid of sweet nothings. In all the time they've been dating, Miyuki has never once made an attempt to convey his feelings. Furuya's at a complete loss as to what could have triggered this.

"Are you okay?" Furuya asks tentatively. He's answered with a disbelieving snort.

"You're such an idiot," Miyuki groans, setting his chin against Furuya's shoulder again. Furuya cranes his neck to look at him, but Miyuki lowers his eyes, cheeks a hot red. Furuya twists, strains against the awkward angle to press a kiss to the corner of Miyuki's lips.

_I like you too_. He wants to say it, but Miyuki is so obviously uncomfortable that even Furuya knows he should try to change the subject.

"Can you explain what this means?" he asks, pointing to his textbook. Miyuki's eyes flick up to meet his briefly, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, before he sighs dramatically and leans over the taller boy to snatch up the book.

"Let's see how hopeless you are…"

* * *

so yeah, hope you liked it. i update a lot more often and post snippets and wips on my tumblr if you like my writing. you can find me at kawakaminori.


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